


for the first time and the last time (in my only life)

by eachandeverydimension



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, In which Camelot is the opposite of magic-phobic, M/M, Magic, and Arthur falls sort of hopelessly in love with Merlin, and Merlin does the same as well, and Merlin is THE Emrys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eachandeverydimension/pseuds/eachandeverydimension
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is going to be the king of Camelot. Merlin is his adviser, the strongest magic wielder in Camelot.</p><p>They meet when they are children and fall in love with someone they can never ever touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur was five the first time he saw Emrys.

It had taken one month of pouting, two day long tantrums and finally an hour long session of whining before he managed to persuade his mother, Queen Ygraine, to allow his presence at the ceremony.  
  
Each year, the royal family paid their respects to Emrys, the strongest wielder of magic in Camelot, to show their goodwill towards magic holders within the country. There would be week-long celebrations throughout Camelot, equally joyous from the villages on the outskirts to the capital itself. The royal ceremony would be held on the first day, and thereafter all sorts of entertainment could be found in the kingdom.

Up until then, Arthur hadn’t been able to attend, mostly because of his parent’s insistence that he was too young, but Arthur knew it was because they were afraid he would do something stupid or inappropriate to disgrace the royal family. Well, he was five now, half of a ten, and he’d show them that he was grown up enough to take part in the ceremony!

The day of the ceremony itself, he woke up early, cornflower blue eyes blinking the light of dawn. The days were cold, winter just on the verge of coming, and Arthur looked forward to the first snow fall. Bundled in his furs, he slipped out of his bed, well, fell, was the better word, as it was still too tall for him. Hissing from the shock of the cold floor, he hopped his way to the carpet in front of the fireplace.

At this hour, the fire was unlit, the ashes of the previous night’s blaze not yet swept away. A knock sounded then on the door, his nurse’s gentle voice floating through the wood. “Your highness, is that you I hear?” Arthur pouted at being found out, then let out a sound of agreement, and the day’s preparation began.

After being fed, washed, scrubbed and dressed, Arthur stood between his parents, about to get on the royal carriage. All three were clad in Pendragon red, the king resplendent in red, touches of gold accenting his clothing. His cloak billowed behind him and the crown glimmered upon his brow, the very image of a king. The queen too was dressed in scarlet, the sleeves and hems embroidered with gold thread, while a delicate filigree crown rested upon her flaxen hair. Arthur was dressed like his father, except smaller in size. Without further ado, the royal family set off for the meeting place.

Emrys resided in a castle half the size of the Pendragon’s, located on the other side of the town. The official ceremony would be carried out at a site equidistant from the royal castle and Emrys’ castle. Later in the day, the royal family and Emrys, as well as other nobles would feast within Emrys’ walls, while food would also be provided for all townsfolk.

Red adorned the streets, banners hanging from every window, and many people were also dressed in crimson. Girls tucked flowers behind their ears while the men had their boots polished to a shine. The cheers of the people echoed off cobblestones as the royal family passed, eyes riveted on them wherever they passed. Very soon, the horses came to a stop. Another carriage, equally well guarded and similarly decorated with scarlet, could be seen, layers of gauzy material hiding its occupant.

“We gather here today…”

Now that all participants were present, the ceremony quickly got underway. Arthur didn’t relish the idea of having to carry out the ceremony when he became king, his father had to recite the long history of magic and its instrumental role in the rise of Camelot. All this time, Emrys remained behind the sheer cloth that hid him from view, little figure unmoving throughout the entire speech.

There must have been some cue Arthur must have missed, or a pivotal moment in his father’s speech, because two handmaidens appeared and drew back the curtains hiding Emrys from view, and Arthur caught his first glimpse of him.

Emrys, in a word, is beautiful. He has ebony hair half concealed by a hood, the darkest black Arthur had ever seen. It reminds him of the one time nurse played a game with him and said he couldn’t light the fire, or even any candles, or else the evil ogres would see him and steal him away in the night. When Arthur snuck a peek through the window when nurse’s back was turned, he saw that the entire city was playing with him, a thick winter cloak of shadows settled across the roofs, even the soldiers in the plaza below, moonlight glinting against their swords.

Eyes the color of moonstones are framed by long lashes equally dark. His pale skin contrasts with his red hood, making him look like he’s made of porcelain. Even though Emrys is sitting still, Arthur can see that his clothes are made to float behind the wearer when in movement, lending him an ethereal air, as if his looks weren’t enough. The only skin Arthur can see is his small, serious face and two lily white hands, folded neatly on his lap. All the rest of Emrys is covered by red cloth, robes tailored to his small frame and a hood that gives him an air of mystery.

Arthur is sure that everyone is as enraptured by Emrys as he is. Emrys is by right supposed to go around Camelot, granting aid whenever needed, however the current one is barely Arthur’s age, and spends most of his time learning within his castle. Few go into his castle, and Emrys rarely ventures out, making this the only opportunity for the people to see him.

All too quickly, the ceremony ends. Arthur barely pays attention through it, his father’s voice a meaningless drone at the back of his mind. His heeds only Emrys. The glimpse of wrist Arthur catches when he reaches to receive Uther’s gift. The clear crystalline quality of his voice when he proclaims the ceremony complete. Arthur’s eyes follow his every movement, and he breaks from his trance only when the horses turn to return to the royal castle.

He isn’t allowed to go to the banquet after, even after an enormous tantrum, but still, there’s a warm tingly feeling in his chest that he can’t quite put a name on. It’s a combination of clean laundry against skin and finally seeing the sun after a long winter. He falls into sleep like a plummeting stone and has happy dreams he can’t remember the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Every year after that, the ceremony is the only time Arthur gets to see Emrys. By six, his sword training officially begins, as well as formal education, both eating up huge chunks of his day. He doesn’t have as much time to think about Emrys anymore, more often falling into bed exhausted after a day of drills or wracking his brains over how to politely turn down someone without offending them. Still, he makes time to find out things about Emrys. Overheard from servants, or gleaned from Gaius, it makes no difference. Once it enters his ears, it’s all he can think about all day.

Emrys likes apples. Emrys is endearingly clumsy, he falls or trips or drops something at least twice a week. Emrys is doing well in his studies, soon he’ll exceed every other magic user there’s ever been. Emrys caught a cold last week because he spent too long in the pool conversing with water nymphs. These tidbits of information made the monotony of Arthur’s days bearable.

Each time Arthur sees him after, he knows more. He knows those slim fingers can carve the most exquisite wooden sculptures. He knows six languages can come out from between those red, red lips. He knows those eyes, pale blue, shine the brightest gold ever after he whispers a spell.  
*  
It’s only by fourteen that Arthur gets the full story. He’s taken to bed with a broken leg, a cold, and to top it off, growing pains. Within the last year, Arthur’s shot up, almost coming to his father’s height now, and his bones express their discomfort at the most inconvenient times. The cold is the result of a dare by one of the knights, and the broken bone from reckless riding in the woods after said dare.

The combination of the three factors make Gaius strangely talkative. Perhaps it’s the rain outside as well, that results in a routine checkup turning in to an hours long chat. Somehow, from Arthur’s irresponsibility, they change the topic to growing pains, and Gaius mentions that Emrys has been complaining of them as well.

Arthur has seen what warrants the pain. Emrys has grown just as much as Arthur, if not more, in the past year. Those slender limbs have elongated, and look so thin, Emrys looks malnourished. Sharp cheekbones jut out of his face, and Arthurs remembers sending a silent prayer that Emrys will eat more.

Unwilling to let his favorite topic off, he steers their conversation back to Emrys.

“Really? He’s grown a lot recently as well, hasn’t he? What’s he like, in real life?” Arthur asks, in a manner he hopes is casual.

Gaius is one of the few people who frequent both castles, royal and Emrys’. As the best physician in Camelot, he’d been charged with educating Emrys about brewing potions. At the same time, he was an advisor in his father’s council. This time, instead of changing the topic like he usually does, Gaius actually replies.

“He’s a lovely lad, very bright. I honestly don’t think there’s much more I can teach him. He’s a wonderful student, but the amount of glass he breaks… it despairs me.”

Somehow, Arthur manages to coax Emrys’ story out of Gaius.  
*  
The previous Emrys, the thirty-eighth, to be exact, had spent his last reserves of his magic on healing Queen Ygraine’s mortal wounds after Arthur’s birth. He had been getting on in the years as well, already into his eighties, but no successor had been found. This worried the people of Camelot, as a Camelot without magic was a Camelot with weakened defenses. 

Riders were sent out to the furthest reaches of Camelot, to find any with magical potential and present them to Emrys, in hope that the heir would surface. However, their efforts were to no avail. Months passed, and Emrys’ health deteriorated. It was not until residents from a village just outside Camelot came to King Uther, pleading with him to help them that the successor was found, however indirectly.

Soldiers from Camelot rode into Ealdor, to be greeted with a scene of carnage. The iron scent of blood permeated the air, and Cenred’s soldiers cut into the villagers indiscriminately, any resistance met with violence. The villagers were unable to pay their taxes, but the collector didn’t believe them, and had sent soldiers. Camelot’s soldiers, sworn to uphold honor and protect the innocent, leapt into action.

Cenred’s soldier were cut down swiftly by those from Camelot, however both sides suffered losses. Bodies, both clad in chainmail and rough clothes, could be seen scattered around, blood blooming on the still figures. Eventually, only a woman’s shouts could be heard, the sounds of fighting having faded.

On the outskirts of the village, the soldiers had found one last remaining soldier of Cenred’s, cornering a mother who was shielding her child.

“Give it up! Where’s your grain?” The soldier placed the tip of his sword against the woman’s cheek, drawing beads of blood.

“We don’t have any, please, the harvest was bad this year. Just let my son go!” The woman pleaded, tears streaked down her cheeks.

At this, the soldier moved forward, seemingly ready to strike her. Quick as lightning, the black-haired child pushed his way out of his mother’s embrace to stand between her and the soldier.

“No!” He threw his hand out towards the soldier. The soldier flew backwards, slamming into the wall of a hut, before sliding down and slumping into a heap. When the child’s eyes turned to the crowd of villagers and soldiers that had gathered, they blazed golden.

Within a day, a messenger had been dispatched back to Camelot, and following not long behind was a soldier, a dark-haired, verdigris-eyed child seated before him on the saddle. Wide-eyed and overwhelmed, he entered Camelot and his life was changed forever.

The then-Emrys took to him like a fish to water. They spent hours together within the courtyards of their castle, Emrys teaching his successor about magic. The dark haired child would show a flower he had made to the wizened old man, dancing around the greenery, as he was taught how to make flowers bloom at his will. As the days passed, it seemed that the heir’s magical power increased exponentially, like a spark introduced to fuel, while the other’s faded until it was almost unnoticeable.  
At last, his age caught up with him, and Emrys was confined to his bed, lacking the strength to get up. He and his successor would sit, conversing in low tones all day. Nobody knew what they talked about, but the child would always leave the room with an unusually solemn look on his face, having been forced out by his attendants, who were concerned for his health. 

When Emrys passes away in his sleep on night, he’s given a fire burial. Only the king and his successor is there to see his body being pushed off the shore of a lake, flames crackling as they consume him almost greedily.  
*  
Hearing about his past makes Arthur reevaluate Emrys. He has always felt like there was a great distance between the two of them, even if they were only separated by the town between their respective residences. Emrys is, to him, inscrutable. Someone otherworldly, like an angel sent down from the heavens. To know about his past made him so much more human. 

The thought of Emrys being there for his predecessor’s funeral made him somber too. Arthur knows what death is, he has hunted and cooked his own food and he knows people die. Too easily, it seems sometimes. A bad cold, unluckiness on a patrol, a moment’s indecisiveness. It felt like it was all too easy to die sometimes. But somehow, he’s managed to go for fourteen years without losing anyone important to him. His mother and father are in good health, Gaius getting along in terms of age but still hale. He wondered how many of his loved ones he would have to see leave him before he died himself.

It wasn’t exactly a light topic, but it clung to Arthur all the way through that night, only releasing its grip on him after three candles had burnt down.


	3. Chapter 3

The first time Arthur properly meets Emrys does not go the way he plans. Well, it’s not that Arthur has actual plans about how he wants to engineer a meeting with Emrys, but there’s always been the odd daydream. Their eyes meeting during the annual ceremony and electricity immediately crackling in the air between them, or doing his rounds in the city and bumping into Emrys, who is doing the same thing. Something like that. Unfortunately, Emrys’ eyes are always fixed seriously on King Uther throughout the ceremonies, and Arthur had never been able to spot a slim, dark-haired figure clad in red on his patrols no matter how hard he strains his eyes.

How they first meet face to face goes something like this: Arthur is sweaty and aching from doing drills, swinging a steel broadsword around in the harsh sunlight under the tutelage of Knight Victor all morning. He’s trudging up to his room, all the way on the top floor of the castle, and bemoaning its position, even if it does have a very good view of the city plaza, when the doors to the great hall swing open. Council has just ended, and steady streams of people move along the corridors, moving off to their next destination. All of his father’s advisors are important people in Camelot, owning large swathes of land and copious amounts of money. For all that the royal family rules Camelot, it is still important to maintain good relations with them.

For that reason, Arthur straightens up, wipes the tired expression off his face and says hello to the advisers as they walk pass. He asks after wives, offers pleasantries and, in general, smiles way too much. When finally the stragglers too have departed, Arthur breathes a sigh of relief and allows himself to slouch, the way his complaining shoulders have been urging him to do.

That’s when Emrys emerges from the doors to the great hall, attendants dressed in white surrounding him on all sides. Their robes are similarly designed, and drift in their wake where they walk. They look ethereal, and Emrys most of all. Gold beads are woven into his hair, which looks like the soft waves of an ebony ocean in the sunlight. His robes are bright red like a ripe apple, and make him look tall and willowy, though Arthur still thinks that he’s too skinny. It looks like the whole entourage is walking on air, they look so graceful.

Arthur must look like a fool, mouth gaping at the sight before him, stinking from sword practice and dirt stains on his shirt where he fell. He almost expects for Emrys to walk right past him, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stops in front of Arthur. “Hello, Prince Arthur,” Emrys says. It sounds exactly like the way it does during the ceremony, cultured and pleasant. Arthur wants to memorize this moment, so that whenever it is needed he can pluck it out from a corner of his mind and relive it, every emotion and detail and word. The warm smile on Emrys’ face. The polite clasp of his hands and the network of veins visible under the surface of his skin. The minute threads of gold that fracture the sapphire of his eyes. While his eyes have been greedily taking in every detail about Emrys, Arthur realizes that he has remained silent for too long. It could even be taken as rudeness.

“Good afternoon, Emrys. How was the council session?”

It was only by drawing upon all the lessons drilled into him by Master Elliot that he managed to keep his voice level. The demeanor of calmness Arthur had was hiding the deluge of emotions within him. The shock and surprise of suddenly meeting Emrys, as well as the fulfillment of his long-time yearning to see Emrys somewhere outside of the ceremony, all rolled into one ball inside Arthur’s stomach and made him nauseous.

Emrys lit up, like having Arthur ask after the council session was the best thing that could have happened to him. “Very well, thank you. Would you like to hear about it?”

Arthur blinked in shock for a few moments, before he replied, “Of course.” Then he stood in silence while he scrambled to think of where he could bring Emrys. The proper protocol would be to head into the great hall, where the king usually had his discussions with Emrys. Unfortunately, Arthur was still the prince and not the king, so he wasn’t quite sure he could use the great hall. Well, his room would have to do then. It was the only place he was sure they wouldn’t be disturbed.

Arthur gestured towards the staircase that was in front of them. “Follow me, Emrys.” The trudge up the stairs was silent, only punctuated by the soft rustling of the material of the clothing of Emrys’ attendants. They surrounded Emrys on all sides usually, but since Emrys was accompanying Arthur at the present, they settled behind Emrys, trailing in his wake. They served two functions: firstly, to protect Emrys and secondly, to serve him. Emrys’ magic was more than enough to guard him against any harm, however precautions were always a good idea, especially when the one being protected was the person most important in Camelot after the royal family. They also served Emrys, providing him with all of his needs. Emrys needed only to beckon a hand, and whatever he wanted would be brought to him.

The silence was rather awkward, and Arthur reflected once again that this wasn’t the way he wanted to meet Emrys. He didn’t want to be exhausted from a day of sword practice, and he most definitely didn’t want to leave the impression that he was so dull that he couldn’t even manage some small talk. Unfortunately, by the time Arthur happened upon that thought, their small entourage had already reached his rooms. Arthur heaved a small sigh and hoped that he could make up for it when he and Emrys got inside to talk. Emrys, on his part, looked very curiously about the corridor, like Arthur’s rooms were the most interesting part of the palace, instead of some normal rooms chosen for the view onto the plaza below.

“Come in,” Arthur said with a nervous smile as he gestured towards his rooms.

“Stay outside please,” Emrys gave a soft but firm command to his attendants before he walked into Arthur’s rooms. As expected, they put up no resistance, and Arthur felt a little guilty as he shut the door in their faces.

When he turns around, however, he sees that Emrys did not share the feeling with him. Instead, Emrys was gazing around Arthur’s chambers with open curiousity. His eyes skimmed over the window, bed and wardrobe before they zeroed in on the messy desk in the middle of the room. Questing fingers ran down the spines of etiquette and history books Arthur had been tasked to read, and traced the table’s edge.

When he toyed with the inkpot, Emrys wasn’t careful enough and accidentally tipped it over. A spray of dark ink arced downwards towards the floor, and Arthur gave a shout of surprise. Without a word, Emrys threw a hand out and the inkpot froze in place, on the verge of tipping over the table edge, but it didn’t. Similarly, the splash of ink had just stopped moving, a dark stain frozen in midair. A sheepish look on his face, Emrys picked up the inkpot and gingerly scooped up all of the ink, before settling the inkpot in the middle of the table, where it was in no danger of being knocked over again.

“Sorry. I have a tendency to be quite clumsy.” Emrys held up his hands and wriggled his fingers, as if showing off the perpetrators of the crime.

Arthur could only chuckle. It was amazing to see Emrys use magic that casually. Most magic users had to utter a spell before they could use magic, but all Emrys had to do was wave a hand before pure power flowed out. He truly lived up to his reputation as the strongest sorcerer in Camelot.While it had been a sight to see Emrys’ power up close, what Arthur latched onto was instead his clumsiness. The Emrys he had seen in the castle halls earlier and during the yearly ceremonies had seemed so different from the Emrys he heard about, too elegant in bearing to be the same boy that Gaius said “had a tendency to spontaneously let go of any glassware he was holding”. Now Arthur finally had the proof that the Emrys in front of him was the one that he had heard of during all those years. It was this knowledge that finally allowed him to loosen up the knot in his chest and laugh softly at Emrys.

Emrys only smiled cheekily back and settled himself into a chair. “Isn’t it strange how we don’t really know each other at all, even though I’ll be advising you in the future?”

“I suppose it’s never come up. Besides, we’re both occupied with our respective lessons.” Arthur said. He had never put much thought into this before.

“I have a proposal, Prince Arthur. Why don’t we spend some time together? We could discuss council matters, or just teach each other anything we want. It would be good practice for the future, don’t you think?” Emrys said.

“It sounds like a good idea.” Arthur said. He desperately tried not to show how hard his pulse was fluttering at the thought of having a reason to see Emrys regularly.

Still smiling at Arthur, Emrys replied, “Wonderful.”

His gaze grew solemn as he looked at Arthur up and down so intensely that Arthur felt like Emrys was staring into his very bones. Arthur’s skin crawled, and then finally Emrys spoke. “You’re going to be a wonderful king, Prince Arthur. I’ve seen it in my dreams.”

He isn’t quite sure how, but Arthur gathers the bravery to ask the question he desperately wants to know the answer to, instead of some other comment about the accuracy of Emrys’ visions. “In your dreams, are you by my side?”

“Always.” Emrys replies, voice utterly earnest. His gaze is serious as he stares back at Arthur, almost as if he wants to convey something to Arthur that cannot be contained by words.

Arthur thinks maybe he understands what Emrys is trying to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always welcome! Sorry for not updating, life has been really busy these few months.


	4. Chapter 4

Though the hour is early, the crisp, chilly air lends Arthur a certain clarity of mind. He is alert to every crackle and snap made by the branches littering the small clearing he is waiting for Emrys in. Already he has been startled twice by rabbits feasting on dew-damp grass. The third time is the charm however, and when he turns around once more from fussing with his horse’s saddlebag he sees Emrys approaching. Instead of the usual diaphanous white robes he usually wore, for the day’s outing Emrys was dressed in plain but well-made clothes that outlined his slim limbs. Over his shoulder was a small satchel whose contents sounded solid where it knocked against Emrys’ side with every step he took. Dressed the way he was, nobody would know that the gangly young man with messy black hair was in fact Emrys, second only to the king himself in terms of influence in Camelot. In a similar vein, Arthur had dressed in his least gaudy clothes, a white linen shirt and dark trousers. After all, their goal for the day was to evade attention so that they could both have a day free from the responsibilities that plagued them daily.

“Prince Arthur! Isn’t the morning lovely?” Emrys shouted from across the clearing.

Even though the sun had barely peeked over the horizon, Arthur judged that it would indeed be a day with clement weather. No dark clouds hung threateningly over the forests, while at the same time a few cheerful wisps of cloud promised to shield them from the worst of the midday sun.

“Yes it is. Good morning, Emrys,” Arthur replied when Emrys drew close, careful to keep his tone courteous. “It’s alright for you to call me Arthur, you know. It would be difficult to remain inconspicuous if you’re calling me a prince.”

“Then I insist that you call me Merlin,” Emrys said.

“Merlin?”

“It was my name before I came to Camelot.” Emrys gave Arthur a silent appraising look, before it morphs into a cheeky grin. “Only the old Emrys and my parents know it, so this has to be our little secret, alright?”

Merlin turned to look towards the forest that would be their destination for the day. “Shall we go?”

*

Birds flitted amongst the trees above their heads, each of them a member of the forests’ orchestra. Arthur saw a red-breasted bird perch on a branch and trill a note, before taking off again. Birdsong filled the air, echoing off the thick tree trunks that neatly lined both sides of the narrow path Arthur and Merlin were taking. Their branches stretched overhead, still a good meter above either of their heads even when they were on horseback. Sunlight from the weak morning sun weaseled its way through the canopy of leaves above, and got to work warming up the earth. In quiet companionship, Arthur and Merlin rode side by side, the clip-clop of their horses’ hooves muted by the layer of leaves underfoot.

Clean, cool air filled Arthur’s lungs as he took a deep breath in. There was truly something special about being out in the forest. Even the air tasted different, crisp and with the scent of something green in it, no matter how ridiculous that sounded. It was a far cry from the city air. While serviceable, it smelled of people and their activities, be it cooking or smelting. Out here amongst the trees, it was almost foolish, but Arthur could entertain the notion that he was the very first person to ever breathe this particular lungful of air. Although the morning air in the city was similarly chilly, it never managed to awaken Arthur’s senses like this. The only other times Arthur had managed to smell this unique forest air was during border patrols, and he was only able to appreciate it for scant moments before having to put on a royal persona for the other soldiers with him.

It had been a good idea to come out here with Merlin, no matter how troublesome and mind-wracking it had been to plan such an outing. Supplies and such were simple to obtain, Arthur was on good terms with the cooking maids and the stable boys. It was an entirely different matter to find a reason for his disappearance all day. Besides his various tutors, his mother would certainly know something was up when he missed their standing appointment for afternoon tea. If it were discovered that he had shirked his lessons for an entire day, a scolding from his father was guaranteed too. Furthermore, he had to come up with an excuse for Emrys as well, who was sure to have many important duties to carry out every day.

Eventually, Emrys saw the sorry state Arthur was in and gave him an out. According to him, there were some ceremonial sites in the forest that he wanted to show Arthur which justified a day out in the forest. So officially, that was the purpose for their trip today. Off the record though, they were taking a day off their duties.

It was working. Being out here away from his tutors and members of the court let Arthur relax. His limbs were not quite filled with languor, but his muscles still subconsciously loosened up, with no one around to catch him if he let his posture slip up. Beside him, Emrys seemed to be enjoying himself as much as Arthur, tilting his head back with his eyes shut to let the sunlight wash over his face.

Though the narrow path forced their horses to crowd together as they rode, Arthur still took care not to let any part of him brush against Emrys. Even in previous encounters, Arthur had kept a respectful distance between the two of them, or sat across the table from Emrys, rather than next to him. After all, all stories told about Emrys ended with one dire warning: it was forbidden to touch him. One thing that bothered Arthur about the rule was that no explanation was ever given. Why was it that Emrys could not be touched? Surely he was just like any of the other sorcerers he saw in Camelot, only more powerful. Those other sorcerers could be touched, so why was Emrys was the only exception? When questioned, Gaius had skillfully avoided the question so many times that Arthur eventually gave up asking him. Since he was right next to the person in question, and Emrys had never hesitated in answering any of his questions before, Arthur decided to find out the truth.

“Why can’t people touch you?” Arthur asked, a little more brusque in manner than he’d intended.

Head tilted skyward, Emrys opened his eyelids slowly before turning to face Arthur.

“Well, it’s not that I can’t be touched. It’s just that anyone who touches me dies,” Emrys says, with the tone of someone who has long resigned himself to his particular fate, and isn’t so bothered by it anymore.

Arthur hates that tone.

“Why?”

“My magic is too powerful. It’s complicated. Do you have a good idea of how magic works?”

“Only the bare minimum they teach those with no magic and what I’ve gleaned from Gaius.”

Emrys smiles at Arthur’s mention of Gaius before he speaks.

“Well, I’ll try to put it in simple terms. Imagine magic as wood, and the spells that sorcerers cast as fire. Magic is the source of our spells, though not everyone can use it. It’s a little like how you need flint to light wood before you can have a fire. Without the flint, which for sorcerers is the ability to cast spells, the wood is useless to you. Magic is found everywhere, though some places have a higher concentration of it than others. For one, the forest usually has more magic than the city, probably because in the city people are always casting spells and using up the magic, whereas the forest is less populated. That’s why the strengthening of the wards used to protect Camelot is usually carried out in the forest, but I won’t get into that now.

Regular sorcerers, they can’t control the amount of magic in their surroundings. Once they’ve cast enough spells and used up all the magic there is, no matter how hard they try to cast a spell, it won’t work. You can’t have a fire without wood. They’ll need to move somewhere else to continue. The magic, of course, is slowly distributed back to that area, so that there’s no imbalance. I, on the other hand, am a source of magic. Imagine regular sorcerers as only carrying flint, while I have both flint and wood. This means that I can rely on myself to cast spells, and take no magic from the surroundings. And the amount of wood that I have is rather large. Not a bundle of kindling, or even the amount of firewood used to heat both our castles throughout the winter season. Continuing with the metaphor, I think an amount corresponding to the entire forest around us would be somewhat accurate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the abrupt end, but the chapter was getting a little long, so I cut it short. Don't worry, Arthur and Merlin will continue their little forest escapade in the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

There isn’t very much Arthur can reply to such a confession, so instead he uses this new information to rearrange all the things that had seemed so strange before.

This explained why Emrys always wore long robes, even in the thick haze of summer air. His attendants, who spent their days surrounding him and were at the most risk, also wore similar clothes. This was why they encircled Emrys no matter where he was, providing a barrier between him and any accidental collisions. Even now, out of his usual clothes, Emrys had chosen his attire with that one consideration in mind: minimizing touch. Long sleeves and a pair of gloves ensured his arms were thoroughly covered, while a red neckerchief hid the nape of his neck from view. The world of magic, Emrys’ world, was so mysterious. Arthur, not a sorcerer himself, felt like a blind man led into a world of light, trying to understand principles he would never be subject to, a force he would never experience or wield. 

“When did this start? You must have been held by your mother, at least.”

Emrys hummed meditatively.

“No one really knows. I suppose it starts when the incumbent Emrys meets the incoming Emrys. I was terribly young then so I can’t quite remember, but Gaius tells me that as a part of the process power is transferred from the old Emrys to the new Emrys over a period of months. This means in tiny trickles I accumulated this enormous magical reserve by draining my predecessor day by day. That’s why the old Emrys always dies that the end of the process: something about our nature means that without a reservoir of magic within me, I will weaken and die.”

Emrys laughed at Arthur’s stricken look.

“Don’t worry, that’s never happened before. I can’t imagine any circumstance leading to that outcome. But I appreciate the concern nonetheless. Ah, here we are.”

Emrys tugged at his horse’s reins and stopped in front of an oak tree that looked indistinguishable from its brethren. He dismounted, and Arthur followed suit.

“The trees are closer together, so we’ll have to walk alongside the horses, but we’re not far off now, Arthur,” Emrys said.

There was no obvious track or path that Emrys followed as he led Arthur into the grove. They didn’t even follow a straight line. Instead, Emrys led them almost haphazardly. He would veer to the right just to breathe in the scent of the leaves hanging just-so at face-height, or switch his direction just as quickly to drag his fingers along the bark of a trunk.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Arthur asked. It felt like they were going in circles. He was certain he had seen the same cluster of bluebells for the third time.

“Of course I do, there is more than one path to a single place, you know.”

Either way, if they were lost Emrys found their way, or if he had been doing it on purpose Emrys stopped, because Arthur soon saw the bright ways of sunlight that meant they were finally leaving the trees.

Emrys stepped forward into the light, and Arthur had to throw up a hand to block the dazzling sunlight. When he lowered his hand, the breath was robbed from his chest and he couldn’t quite believe his eyes: it was so beautiful.

“Prince Arthur, welcome to Aurelius Lake.”

A gleaming expanse of water stretched out before Arthur, hemmed in on all sides by trees. Sunlight sparkled on the surface of the water, and it was almost too bright to see. On the other end of the lake, Arthur could blot out the trees at the edge of the water with a fingernail. Silver-bellied fish glided through the waters, and their iridescent bellies seemed to reflect the blooms dotting the grass along the water’s edge. Most majestic of all was the massive oak that filled the clearing before Arthur. Its branches spread wider and higher than any other tree around it, and the shadow of its crown touched the water, even though its trunk was a good way away from the water. Under the thick crown of its leaves, they would barely be able to feel the heat of the day.

Arthur and Emrys led their horses to the edge of the water for a drink. While they drank, Arthur too knelt down and brought a mouthful of crisp, sweet water to his lips. It had that slight mineral tang that lake water tended to have, and was cool even under the noon sun. He filled a water skin and offered it to Emrys, who accepted it with an easy smile, drinking a few mouthfuls before returning the water skin to Arthur. After some rummaging, he produced two carrots from his saddlebags and offered one each to their steeds. When they were done, Emrys got out their own lunch and walked off towards the shade of the oak.

Arthur hesitated for a moment. “What about the horses?” Left untethered, they might wander off into the woods.

“Not to worry, they won’t go anywhere. Come have lunch.” Emrys had already spread out a pristine white cloth on the ground, and was emptying a lumpy sack onto it.

When Arthur walked over to join Emrys, he noticed that the corner of the cloth wasn’t laid out properly, and he righted it. It amused him, that Emrys had such powerful magic but didn’t even know how to lay out a picnic cloth. Or, for a matter of fact, even knew what a picnic cloth was supposed to look like. Not even his mother, who was a queen, would use a white cloth for picnicking. Emrys probably never had to prepare for such things himself, surrounded with attendants as he was.

When Emrys saw Arthur unfold the cloth where it was crumpled, he thanked Arthur absently. Emrys had peeled off his gloves and neatly separated their food into two equal portions by the time Arthur finished with the cloth and sat down. A small tower of bread, cheese and two apples awaited Arthur. He had grabbed an apple and was about to sink his teeth into it, when Emrys held out a hand to stop him.

“Wait, I have a trick to show you. I promise you’ll like it.”

Arthur relinquished his apple to Emrys, carefully dropping it into his outstretched palm to avoid contact. He expected Emrys to pick up the other apple, but instead, with a small flick of his fingers, all four apples they had brought lifted gently into the air. Arthur met Emrys’ grin with his own.

“Watch.”

Before Arthur’s eyes, the apples started to divide themselves, as if an invisible knife was slicing them. Within a matter of seconds, all four apples turned into small starbursts of apple slices slowly rotating in the air, their seeds in a small pile besides Emrys.

Next, Emrys turned his attention to the bread and cheese, and waved his hands like he was conducting a musician. The food was divided into bite-sized portions and the cheese placed on top of the bread by invisible forces; all the while, the apple slices maintained their mesmerizing dance through the air.

There was a small puff of warm air, and the smell of freshly-baked bread suffused the air around them. The cheese on the bread melted into a delicious gooey mess that made Arthur start salivating. Emrys plucked a slice of apple from the air, stacked it onto the cheesy bread, and took a bite with great relish.

“I am a great chef, if I do say so myself.”

Arthur laughed at Emrys’ smug expression and prepared some bread for himself. The crisp sweetness of apple, and the salty goodness of cheese on warm bread blended together into a rich and flavorful snack that surprised Arthur with every bite. This was possibly the best food he had eaten out in the woods on a ride.

Emrys was leaning on one arm, popping slices of apple into his mouth as he watched Arthur eat.

“This is amazing,” Arthur said.

“Thank you. My magic can come in very useful sometimes,” Emrys said.

Arthur filled his stomach, then leaned back on his elbows to survey the area. It was incredibly peaceful here: Arthur felt if he were given the chance, he would choose to stay here forever. All he had to do was close his eyes, feel the cool breeze touch his face, listen to the rustling of branches and birdsong, and all his worries would vanish. All of his senses were being soothed, simply from being here. There was the faint fragrance of oak leaves in the air and the most beautiful nature had to offer surrounded him. Arthur never wanted to leave.

He shifted his arms, and let himself recline fully on the soft grass. The satisfied flick of his horse’s tail caught his attention. Emrys was feeding their leftover apple slices to the horses. He stroked their muzzles as he fed them, murmured praises into their ears. Arthur noticed the flash of white skin under sun. Emrys still had his gloves off from their lunch before. Arthur would have to ask Emrys later, why he could touch animals. But that could wait: it seemed like all things could wait at Aurelius Lake, like time didn’t exist, that an afternoon could stretch into eternity.

Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, let his lungs fill with the fragrance of soil and oak leaves that made him smile almost unconsciously. He had to make the most of it while he was here. Had to saturate his lungs with this scent, memorize each and every sight and sound in this place, enough to last him a lifetime. Enough that on days where he lay in his bed exhausted after a day of training and lessons, he could conjure up the memory of Aurelius Lake to take his pains away. Who knew when he would return, if he would even be allowed to return?

A whisper-soft sound told Arthur that Emrys had drawn near.

“Arthur, don’t move a muscle,” Emrys whispered.

Arthur’s first instinct was to tense up: was there a snake poised to bite him somewhere in the grass? They were hours away on horseback from the nearest healer. If it was poisonous snake it would almost certainly kill Arthur. But then he reasoned, whatever it was, wonderful, amazing Emrys, who could do inexplicable things with his magic, would surely take care of him. It felt like in Lake Aurelius, with Emrys by his side, nothing terrible could ever befall Arthur. The tension drained out of his limbs, and when a whisper-thin piece of fabric was draped over his face, al he registered was mild curiosity. The cloth barely weighed anything at all, and the sunlight pierced through it easily. It reminded Arthur of the gauzy white robes Emrys and his attendants usually wore, the way the fabric moved in the wake of their graceful movements.

Then Arthur wasn’t reminded of anything at all, because Emrys leant over, his shadow turning Arthur’s world behind his eyelids black, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been an incredibly long wait for chapter five, and I'm sorry about it! 
> 
> Good news: there are two more chapters written after this.


	6. Chapter 6

It was just a slow firm pressure, their lips pressed together, separated by the thin barrier of fabric. It was chaste, nothing like what his soldiers whispered about over campfires, or what Arthur had glimpsed after nobles got too drunk after a party at the castle. Two of Emrys’ fingers crept up and traced the line of Arthur’s jaw. The silky material of the cloth over Arthur’s face slip-slided across his skin with the movement. A faint scent that reminded Arthur of cool night air, a sensation almost, infused Arthur’s senses. Arthur was like a statue, frozen with shock and, he admitted, excitement.

Emrys drew back slightly. Arthur could still feel Emrys’ warm breath against his face. He wanted to open his eyes, see whether Emrys’ eyes were really as beautiful as Arthur had imagined up close, but he was afraid of breaking the peace of this moment. Maybe if he stayed still, Emrys would kiss him again. Arthur let out a single word.

“Emrys.”

With that one sound, the peace Arthur was afraid to shatter broke into a million pieces. Emrys recoiled from Arthur, scrabbling away in a flurry of action and sound. Arthur’s eyes burst open and he sat up. Some sort of whiteness covered his vision before Arthur brushed the cloth away hastily. The sunlight was almost eye-wateringly strong after the shade of Emrys had provided. When Arthur’s eyes adjusted to the light, Emrys was sitting five feet away on the ground. His eyes flickered erratically from the grass to the trees surrounding them, never meeting Arthur’s gaze.

Emrys stammered out, “I’m sorry, that was a mistake.”

There was a slight flush in his cheeks that Arthur had never seen before. Arthur’s eyes couldn’t help being drawn to the lips that had just been kissing his, which were parted as Emrys breathed rapidly.

Arthur wanted to burst out laughing, he was so full of joy. Now that the initial shock had worn off, all he could feel was sheer elation. Arthur wasn’t the only one. He had been harboring this secret crush for years and years now, only to find out that Emrys felt the same way.

“No, it’s fine-” Arthur said. He stretched out a hand towards Emrys. To calm him down or to try and bring him closer again, Arthur didn’t know which.

“No,” Emrys said, shaking his head. “No, I shouldn’t have done that.”

He stood up and stumbled back a few steps, moving further and further from Arthur.

Arthur stood up to try and close the distance between them. Emrys was still shaking his head as he backed away from Arthur. If Emrys could just let Arthur speak, and stop walking away, Arthur could explain everything. Even as Arthur tried to catch up, Emrys kept moving, until he was out of the oak’s shade. They had moved almost all the way to the forest line, the water at Arthur’s back.

This close, with Arthur still in the cool shade of the tree while Emrys was haloed with golden sunlight, Arthur could see what he couldn’t see before. Emrys was wild-eyed, eyes glistening with moisture as he tore his hands through his hair. His ever-present composure had been shattered. This had to be a mistake. It was a time for celebration. Emrys had to know how Arthur felt. Hadn’t he made it obvious enough? Arthur’s love for Emrys stained everything he did. The way he couldn’t help but smile in Emrys’ presence. How he spent days thinking about the smartest thing to say to make Emrys laugh when they next met. The way he always searched a room for Emrys when he entered it, how he always stared from afar until Emrys caught his eye and smiled back. Even Gaius had commented on it, how could Emrys have not?

“I’m sorry for over-stepping my bounds, Prince Arthur,” Emrys said. He straightened up his posture and put his hands behind his back. Emrys looked the way he always did during council meetings: formal and still. Unapproachable. “I trust you’ll be able to find your way back yourself. There’s urgent business awaiting me in the city.”

And Emrys turned around and walked into the forest.

“Wait!” Arthur said. He burst into the trees mere seconds after Emrys, but Emrys was nowhere to be seen. The dim light coming through the densely-woven tree canopy cast shadows everywhere. There were countless nooks and crannies in this forest where Emrys could have hidden. It was as if the trees had swallowed him into their depths at his request.

There was no way Arthur could find Emrys in the forest. Emrys was indubitably more familiar with the area around Lake Aurelius than he was. Arthur would probably get lost himself, and never even come close to finding Emrys. Maybe Emrys had used teleportation magic, and was already back in Camelot. Whatever the case, the rational part of Arthur’s mind told him to return for the horses before doing anything else.

With slow steps, Arthur returned to the clearing. The beauty and majesty of the surroundings no longer amazed him, his mood casting even the most splendid of sites in a grey pall. Looking around the lake, all he could remember was the pleasant meal he and Emrys had enjoyed not so long ago, before everything went wrong.

The horses were still grazing near the edge of the lake, and Arthur walked over. It was clear that the only thing he could do was to return to Camelot. There would be no finding Emrys out here, and it looked like he didn’t want to be found. Arthur was reasonably sure he could retrace the path back home. If not, he had spent enough time in the forests surrounding Camelot that he could recognize a familiar landmark and set a course back to the palace. Arthur wearily began to pack his things for the trip home.

A quick check that his water-skin was full and his horse was well-saddled were all Arthur needed for his own horse. Emrys’ horse, however, looked a little worried that his rider was gone. It whickered and butted its nose into Arthur’s face gently.

“It’s okay. He’s fine, he just went back early. I’ll get you home, alright?” Arthur reassured the horse, stroking its slender face.

Back under the shade of the oak, Arthur gathered up the pristine white cloth Emrys had used as a picnic blanket. The material was well-made and thick, and kept its place despite a small breeze. A pile of apple seeds was still at its centre, but the cloth was otherwise empty. The food had all been finished, and Arthur assumed that Emrys had taken his gloves before he took off. Arthur scooped up the apple seeds and put them into his pocket, before he folded up the cloth and put it into the saddlebags on Emrys’ horse.

Arthur took a long, lingering look around Aurelius Lake. He was now sure he would never come back. However beautiful it was, Arthur would only associate it with the confusing events and dizzying emotions of the past hour. On his last scan of the clearing, Arthur spotted something.

When he stepped closer to take a look, he realised what it was. The piece of white cloth that Emrys had draped over Arthur’s face had flown off during the confusion. Carried by the wind, it had been blown to a small flowering bush, and gotten tangled in its many stems. The riotous colours of the bush’s blooms could be seen through the thin material. Arthur gently tugged the cloth loose until the flowers were released from their prison. The tiny buds of colour, purple and pink, white and yellow, were so cheerful that Arthur was forcibly reminded of the depressing journey back to Camelot he would have to take, with two horses but only one rider.

With a deep sigh, Arthur folded and tucked the cloth into his other pocket, and set off for home.

*

That night, Arthur laid awake in his bed for a long time. The thoughts swirling in his mind during the ride back to Camelot had not dispersed at the city gates. Instead, they circled endlessly in his head, even as Arthur took the long way through the city to the Pendragon castle and finally arrived at the stables. Arthur brushed off the stable hand’s confusion when he saw the extra horse that Arthur had returned with, Emrys’ horse, and went up to his rooms.

As Arthur paced the length of his bedroom, his thoughts followed the same circular pattern, treading and re-treading the same paths. He begged off from dinner with his parents with excuses of fatigue from his long trip into the woods, and had dinner brought up to his rooms. All the while, he poured through the events of the day, and asked himself again and again how it had ended up that way. Now, lying in bed, Arthur finally had an idea why.

He had assumed all along that his feelings for Emrys were evident. That Emrys knew full well that Arthur had a crush on him, but was politely ignoring it. But maybe… Maybe Emrys didn’t know. That could be why he had run off after kissing Arthur: he thought that Arthur was rejecting him. He didn’t know that Arthur liked him as well, that the kiss they shared was the furthest thing from unwanted. Arthur was sure of it. This would explain everything that had happened: Emrys’ profuse apologies and then his fleeing after kissing Arthur.

The solution was simple, then. Tomorrow, Arthur would track down Emrys, tell him how he felt, and hopefully, maybe, even get a second kiss in as many days. With this resolution in his heart, Arthur finally found sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day did not turn out the way Arthur thought it would.

Arthur had imagined that confessing his love for Emrys would be a simple affair. All the everyday tasks and burdens could be side-stepped for the important job of finding the love of his life and telling him the way he felt. He thought that it would be just like the ballads described: nothing could stand in the way of true love. The knight would miraculously make his way through the heavily-guarded castle to find his princess, all hardships easily overcome. Unfortunately, things did not prove that easy.

Arthur was woken up bright and early by his maid as usual. Despite his protests that he was tired, and he had something important to do today, he was strapped into his armour and dragged down to morning drills. Arthur knew there was no point trying to convince Knight Victor to let him go early. Victor was unyielding to any excuses the soldiers came up with to skip drills. He claimed that if they were sick, they would have to learn to fight sick, because there was a chance that in actual battle they would have to do that. His excellent work ethic meant that Victor was the most outstanding knight in Camelot, but also that his training was gruelling.

Two hours later, Arthur couldn’t feel his arms. The repeated clashing of blades had sent shockwaves up his biceps, and after countless drills, Arthur wasn’t even sure his arms were still attached to him.

Still, he soldiered through the pain and fatigue as he always did. Arthur cleaned himself up and changed into a new set of clothes, all while eating a hasty lunch in his room. He was prepared to leave for Emrys’ palace, the reins of Emrys’ horse in hand, when a maid Queen Ygraine sent found him.

How could he have forgotten their afternoon tea? Arthur had spent his afternoons with his mother for as long as he could remember. Barring extenuating circumstances, mother and son spent a leisurely hour together every afternoon. Even when he was little, Arthur’s mother had set aside time during the afternoons to spend with him. One of Arthur’s earliest memories had been a quiet moment with his mother, in the small herb garden on the castle grounds. She had led Arthur to every herb, told him their names and let him run his hands over their leaves to get their scent. After that, Arthur had helped her find and cut sections of herbs for drying, pointing out sections with intact leaves while his mother carefully gathered them.

As Arthur got older, the things they did during their afternoons together changed, as was expected. Queen Ygraine would share tea with Arthur in her solar as they discussed his lessons. They talked about everything, from the events that happened during their day, to the harvests that year. Even when one of them were sick, these visits continued. During the winter, when his mother took ill more often than Arthur liked, Arthur would visit her bedside. They would share lunch, or Arthur would bring her herbal tea and read to her as she drowsed. Those visits in particular reminded Arthur of how lucky he was that his mother was still by his side. Growing up, Arthur had heard many stories of how his mother had nearly died giving birth to him. He learnt early on not to ask for siblings, if only to avoid the stricken look that would appear on his mother’s face.

He knew that most other mothers and sons were not as close as they were. Alexander from the night patrol had confided in Arthur that he had run away from his village to become a soldier in Camelot. He had not seen his family in five years, but he had no plans to return. Arthur savoured every moment with his mother because he knew how close he had come to never knowing her at all. If they had ruled in any other country, one without an Emrys devoted to it, there was no question that Queen Ygraine would have died in childbirth. His mother most likely felt the same sense of luckiness, and besides, Arthur was her only child.

There was no way Arthur could abandon his mother for their afternoon tea. He could imagine the scene of her waiting for him: the sunlight streaming in through the generous windows of the solar, illuminating his mother’s hair as she bent over a piece of needlework or a book, a pot of tea cooling on the table next to her and curls of steam dissipating into the air. The image sprung effortlessly into his mind, as it was the exact sight that greeted him every time he opened the door to his mother’s solar for their afternoon teas. When she turned and saw that it was Arthur, she would always break into a wide smile, call Arthur _my darling_ and beckon him over.

There was no question about it: Arthur had to go. He hastily handed off the horse’s reins to the stable hand, telling the boy to be ready in another hour. Two steps at a time, Arthur climbed the stairs to his mother’s solar. If he told his mother he had an important errand to run for Emrys, she might acquiesce to let him only drink one cup of tea instead of his usual two.

As he rounded the corner to his mother’s solar, Arthur thought he saw someone wearing long white robes disappear around the corner. The thin material drifting in the wake of movement reminded Arthur of Emrys and his attendants, but that was impossible. Emrys’ dealings were mostly with the king and the council. Arthur dismissed it as his imagination; Emrys had been on his mind too much.

“Arthur!” Queen Ygraine said. “I thought you weren’t coming, you were so late.” She had started without him, blowing gently on a cup of steaming tea.

“Hello, Mother. I’m sorry I’m late,” Arthur said, scrambling for an excuse. “I’ve… had a lot on my mind recently.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re taking an interest in royal affairs instead of just training with the knights. Come sit down.” She held a hand out towards Arthur, which he kissed briefly before sitting in his usual spot next to her. “I missed you yesterday. Did you have fun in the forest?”

“Yes. Emrys was an excellent guide. It’s very beautiful there.”

Arthur tried not to show that anything more than platonic had happened yesterday. It didn’t seem like the right time to tell her, or anyone at all, about what transpired between him and Emrys. At least, not until he sorted things out with Emrys first.

“Was it very tiring? You missed dinner last night,” Queen Ygraine said.

“Yes, we went quite far into the forest,” Arthur said, picking up the cup of tea that a maid had poured for him before leaving the room. It felt awkward to speak to his mother about this; he wasn’t used to keeping secrets from her.

“Well, Emrys didn’t seem all that tired when I saw him. He came to speak to your father in the morning. He even had the time to have a word with me.”

“What? Emrys came to the castle?” Arthur couldn’t believe that he had missed Emrys. He had been right inside the castle, while Arthur was in the training yards outside. He knew he should have tried harder to get out of training today, he had missed his great opportunity to settle things with Emrys.

“Yes. Why are you so surprised?” His mother’s head tilted to one side, a movement Arthur knew meant that she had noticed something amiss, and was close to catching on.

“N-nothing. It’s just that I have something of Emrys’ to return.” If Arthur mentioned the horse, his mother’s curiosity would definitely be piqued, leading to a line of questioning Arthur wanted to avoid. Better to keep it vague.

“I see.” There’s a small line between his mother’s brows, but it smoothens out almost immediately.

Arthur is silently breathing a sigh of relief, when his mother says, “Arthur, have you thought about marriage?”

If Arthur had been taking a drink, he would surely have spit it out. Thankfully, he wasn’t.

“What? Mother, I’m only eighteen,” Arthur protested.

“I know, but it’s never too early to start planning. And Emrys brought up a very good point today. Your father only has one heir, you. If anything were to happen to either of you, the line of succession isn’t clear. Camelot would be thrown into chaos as those with power battled for the right to rule. Don’t you think it’s a better idea for you to marry early and bear an heir to secure the line of succession?”

Emrys had suggested this? Arthur felt an immediate sense of betrayal. If the suggestion had come from his parents it wouldn’t have hurt so much. Knowing that Emrys had brought up this issue to his parents only made Arthur more desperate to avoid it. He had no intention of getting married this young, much less to someone his parents picked out for him. The one he wanted, if he would have Arthur, was Emrys.

“Still, I feel like it’s too early to discuss my marriage,” Arthur said.

“Well, nothing’s official yet. Why don’t you just meet some young ladies? Emrys suggested some candidates among the daughters and nieces of various nobles in the area,” Queen Ygraine said. “That can’t do any harm.”

Arthur just couldn’t say no to his mother, not when she talked to him in that calm and reasonable voice. He nodded his head reluctantly and stared down into his tea at his reflection.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Half an hour later, Arthur was knocking on the door of Emrys’ palace. He had begged off staying longer in his mother’s solar with claims that he had to think upon her suggestions. In reality, he dashed down to the stables, eager to confront Emrys. The walk across the town to reach Emrys’ palace took a shorter time than it usually did. Arthur tugged the horse along at a brisk pace, and didn’t stop like he usually did to speak to the locals. Their greetings were met with a raised hand and a distracted smile from Arthur, whose mind was set on Emrys’ palace.

A lithe figure clothed in white manning the gate recognized Arthur immediately, and rushed forward to greet him.

“Prince Arthur, we weren’t expecting you. Please, you are welcome,” the young man said. He seemed nervous, which didn’t surprise Arthur. Emrys was usually the one who made the journey across town to visit the Pendragon castle. The sight of any Pendragon over here was a rare one. A stable hand was quick to recognize the horse and bring it to the stables, thanking Arthur profusely all the while. The young man at the gate bowed and gestured inwards towards the cool depths of Emrys’ castle.

The two castles in Camelot were similar in many ways. They were equidistant from both the city walls and the town square at the exact centre of Camelot. With regards to size and architecture, they were also designed and built in much of the same manner three hundred years ago, to symbolize that Emrys and the Pendragons held equal sway over Camelot.

The two castles shared a similar exterior: white stone carefully carved into arches and other decorative details. Arthur recognized a pattern in the outside walls of Emrys’ palace that mirrored the one carved onto the Pendragon palace. The interior, however, was a different matter altogether. Where the halls of Arthur’s home was always bustling, with maids or nobles making their way in and out of the palace at all hours, the palace he now stepped into was hushed. There was the air of sanctuary about the place, and Arthur felt immediately calmer within the confines of the palace walls. He knew not if it was because he was one step closer to Emrys, or simply the effect that the palace had on people. Another counterpoint to the Pendragon castle was the lack of decoration. There were no ornate suits of armour, or richly done tapestries decorating the halls. However, the place was not stark or cold. Rather, it radiated a sort of simplicity, like the residents of this place had no need for the trappings of luxury.

Everywhere Arthur turned, he saw white-robed figures. People of all ages passed through the halls of Emrys’ palace in their daily lives. Children ran along the halls playing and were gently chided by their elders, who climbed the stairs in pairs, carrying books. Every figure he saw reminded him of Emrys. Whether it was because of their dressing or because of the essence of magic that lingered about them, Arthur didn’t know.

With much effort, Arthur reined himself in and told himself to focus on the task ahead of him. There would be other times to observe Emrys’ palace. Arthur was led by the young man into a chamber to wait for Emrys, while Emrys was being informed of his presence. After making his excuses, the young man left. As the wooden door shut behind him, Arthur cast his eyes around the chamber.

The furniture in the chamber was simple, but of good craftsmanship. It was a small room, evidently not often occupied, judging by the utter lack of decoration or items in it. A small table took up the centre of the room, with a few chairs tucked next to it. Arthur sat down on one of the chairs, arms braced on the edge of the table, and went through in his head what he was going to tell Emrys.

After about ten minutes, there was a soft knock on the door. Arthur jolted up-right, preparing to launch into his spiel about how he shared Emrys’ feelings. But the person who opened the door was a woman. Or rather, she was a girl. Aside from her green eyes, which stared at Arthur with an unusual intensity, everything else about the girl reminded Arthur of Emrys, even more so than the other figures he had seen. Her pale skin, the way her dark hair curled where it escaped the cowl of her hood, even the way her white robes draped on her frame, brought to mind Emrys. The two of them could have passed for twins. Even more striking was the way they shared a sort of presence. A quiet forcefulness and assuredness, like they were silently confident they could field whatever difficulties or inconveniences that came their way.

“Emrys sends his apologies, Prince Arthur. He is engaged in important business which cannot be interrupted. Please accept these as an apology,” the girl says. She holds up a tray of apples, perfectly luscious and red. They look identical to the ones Emrys had brought on their picnic the previous day. The tilt of her chin was slightly insolent, even as her face remained neutral.

“Well, when will he free? I’m willing to wait however long it takes,” Arthur says, stepping closer to the girl.

Her eyes flicked up and down his body once before she replied. “I’m afraid Emrys will be occupied for the whole day. Perhaps you could return to your castle, and Emrys will visit at his nearest convenience,” the girl says.

“No, that’s alright. I’ll wait here,” Arthur says, sitting back down. He had no idea if Emrys’ excuse was real, but Arthur knew that letting another day go by while this misunderstanding persisted would only make things worse. If Emrys were truly busy, Arthur would wait until he was free. And if Emrys wanted to avoid Arthur, he would show Emrys that he was sincere about his feelings.

The girl stood at the doorway for a moment, before she stepped in and walked over to the table. Her expression had softened a little. She gently placed the tray of apples down, and said, “Very well, Prince Arthur. I will inform Emrys of your decision. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask for it.” And with a small incline of her head towards him, she left.

Arthur waited for four hours, but Emrys didn’t show up. By sun-down, Arthur had given up. He had one hand cradling his head, which was hanging in despair. The tray of apples were pristine and untouched in front of him. Soon, his presence at the dinner table would be missed, not to mention his absence all day. He had to return, or his parents might send the guard out to comb the streets for him.

With a heavy sigh, Arthur stood up. He had come all this way, spent all this time, for nothing. Emrys refused to even see him. How was he supposed to clear up their misunderstanding that way? Arthur felt a flash of irritation, and snatched an apple off the tray, before storming out of the room. As he made his way out of Emrys’ castle and back to his, he thought, _Time for a different approach._

*

If Emrys refused to see Arthur face-to-face, Arthur would simply have to use another method. After a slightly awkward dinner with his parents which included careful misdirecting about what he had been doing all day, Arthur decamped to his room at the earliest opportunity. For the remainder of the evening, he laboured at his desk hunched over a piece of parchment.

Arthur goes through a stack of parchment, tips over two inkpots, and spends an hour revisiting the memory of Emrys using magic to scoop spilt ink out of mid-air. But by the end of the night, he has his thoughts written down on a piece of parchment. It seemed like such an inadequate measure, to stake his relationship with Emrys on a piece of parchment. But it was all Arthur had. He couldn’t force Emrys to meet him. At least this way, even if Emrys refused to see Arthur, he could pass the letter on in hopes of letting Emrys read it. Arthur read through his letter again, even though every word was already imprinted in his mind. He hoped it would be enough. When he looked up from his last reread before he went to bed, Arthur’s eyes caught on the bright red apple he had taken from Emrys’ offering, gleaming in the golden light of the fireplace. He toyed with it, rolling it around the surface of his desk with one finger, before picking it up and walking to his window. Eyes fixed on Emrys’ palace, far on the other side of Camelot, Arthur bit into the apple, and thought, _it had tasted sweeter when he was with Emrys._


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur realises that the universe must be actively opposed to his relationship with Emrys when he gets called down to a council meeting even before his sword training the next day. He only has enough time to hastily tuck away his letter to Emrys in one of his pockets and run a hand through his sleep-mussed hair before he’s hauled off by his maid.

Before he knows it, Arthur is seated in the large chamber used by the council for their weekly meetings. Arthur sat at his father’s side; the king occupied the seat at the head of the table, and the rest of the councillors sat in pairs facing each other down the long rectangular table. Arthur took a mental note to change the furniture in the council hall in the future: a circular table would enable everyone to see each other much more easily. Curiously, the seat opposite Arthur’s was empty, but Arthur had already accounted for all the councillors.

Except… there was _one_ person missing from the council meeting. Arthur could hear some of the chit-chat the councillors were making, presumably about the meeting that was about to take place. Something about _daughters_ , and _eligibility_ , and _strategic_ _ties_. Somehow, Arthur had a very bad feeling about this council meeting. Surely this was a nightmare. Surely he was not about to be discussing his marriage prospects with the entire council, including Emrys himself. Arthur pinched himself, and flinched at the pain.

Nope, not a nightmare.

Even worse, Arthur heard the door open, and the characteristic soft metallic clinks that the beads woven into Emrys’ hair made, as he strode into the room.

“Good morning, everyone. I apologise for my tardiness,” Emrys said, as he sat down opposite Arthur. His eyes swept over the occupants of the room authoritatively, but when he looked in Arthur’s direction, his gaze was fixed somewhere beyond Arthur’s right shoulder.

“I believe everyone has been apprised of the agenda of today’s meeting,” Emrys said. “King Uther and I have collated a list of ladies who we believe are suitable to join the Pendragon family. However, you all are free to suggest other ladies or strike any off the existing list, given appropriate reasons.”

Emrys waved a hand at Agravaine, who was seated on Arthur’s right. Arthur noticed that Emrys was wearing his gloves. “Lord Agravaine, if you could please read out the list.”

Arthur peeked a look over his uncle’s shoulder, as he read out the list of names.

_Princess Elena, daughter of Godwyn. Princess Vivian, daughter of Olaf._ The list went on and on. He didn’t realise that there were so many kingdoms near Camelot with marriageable daughters. And Emrys wanted the councillors to _add on_ to it?

Arthur let his attention slip away from the proceedings. Nothing he said would derail the council meeting. He had no candidates to put forth, and no particular reason to strike any girls off the list, aside from a general utter lack of desire to marry, which would convince no one in the room. He absently noted that several of the councillors proposed for their daughters or nieces to be added to the list. He couldn’t find it in himself to blame them. The chance to elevate their status from nobility to royalty dangled right before them, as did the chance to claim that they were related by blood to the future queen of Camelot. A large part of Uncle Agravaine’s influence today was probably due to his sister’s position as the queen of Camelot.

Other than that, Arthur’s attention was focused on Emrys, who was still studiously avoiding Arthur’s gaze. He was as beautiful as always, pale skin and dark hair. He looked tired, the skin under his eyes touched with a tinge of purple. Emrys and Arthur’s father presided over the meeting efficiently, heading off a councillor who proposed five candidates, all from their own family. They elicited responses from those reticent, and prevented the verbose from dominating the discussion. Arthur couldn’t imagine holding a council meeting by himself in the future. The tactful balance required to turn down suggestions without causing offence, and elicit answers without showing favouritism was a delicate one, maintained only by close collaboration between the king and Emrys.

How could Arthur ever achieve that kind of relationship with Emrys? Emrys wouldn’t even meet his eyes, much less talk to him. Before, when Arthur didn’t know that his feelings were returned, he could have tamped down his errant emotions and fulfilled his duty. Now, though, it was impossible. There had been a possibility of a _something_ between the two of them that Arthur doesn’t know the name for. Arthur knew what Emrys’ lips tasted like. There would be no going back from this. Arthur felt a renewed sense of resolve: they was no avoiding it, he had to get Emrys to himself, and talk things out.

Arthur was snapped out of his reverie when the councillors around him started rising from their seats. Uncle Agravaine stood up and slapped Arthur’s right shoulder. “Soon I’ll be a grand-uncle, eh? Pick a good lass, Arthur, or she’ll boss you around the rest of your life!” With a hearty laugh, Uncle Agravaine left the hall.

By themselves or in small chatting clusters, the councillors filed out of the room. Some stayed behind in their seats, talking to their neighbours. One of those people was Emrys, who seemed engrossed in discussion with Arthur’s father. Arthur had the feeling that no matter how long he stayed put in his seat, Emrys would find a way to extend his discussion with Uther. With a heavy sigh, Arthur decided to make a strategic retreat. He stood up, and left for his rooms. A quick change of clothes, and he could be pummelling a training dummy until his stupid brain stopped thinking of Emrys.

Outside the door, however, he saw a familiar figure standing amongst Emrys’ entourage. Emrys must have left them outside the chamber before he went inside. One of them was the girl who had welcomed Arthur and brought him the tray of apples yesterday at Emrys’ palace. Those green eyes, the dark curls. There was no mistaking it. She stood slightly apart from the others, which made it easy for Arthur to approach her. This was the perfect opportunity he had been waiting for.

“It’s you, from yesterday,” Arthur said. He winced internally. That wasn’t exactly the most eloquent way to announce his presence.

Her green eyes widened with surprise. As one, Emrys’ entourage curtsied in a swirl of white cloth, swan-like necks dipping gracefully.

“Prince Arthur,” the girl said.

Arthur acknowledged those surrounding her with an absentminded nod, then turned his attention back to the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Morgana, sire.”

“Morgana. I seem to have left something behind yesterday. I need a moment of your time.” Arthur beckoned her around the corner where they could get some privacy. This particular passage led to the private quarters of the royal family, and fewer people passed through it.

“There was nothing in the room yesterday, are you sure…?” Morgana said, trailing reluctantly behind Arthur.

Once out of sight of prying eyes, Arthur took the letter out of his pocket. “I need you to give this to Emrys.”

Morgana folded her arms, suddenly defiant. “I serve Emrys, not you. I don’t have to take your orders.”

Arthur looked around, it would be suspicious for him to speak to one of Emrys’ handmaidens alone. When he saw the coast was clear, he stepped closer to Morgana, and pressed the letter into her hands.

“Please. He’s unhappy, isn’t he? It’s because of me. I’m unhappy too, I want to fix this. He won’t see me, so this letter is the only way I’ll get to talk to him. Please help me fix this, Morgana.”

Arthur could see her determination wavering. She seemed on the brink of accepting, then her head jerked towards the council hall, as if she had heard something.

“He’s coming out,” Morgana said, and spirited the letter away inside her white robes. “I’ll give him your letter, but if you hurt him I will never forgive you.” She spared a moment to fix Arthur with a glare, then hurried back to join the rest of Emrys’ entourage. Their curious glances were bouncing between Morgana, standing oblivious with eyes fixed on the meeting room door, and Arthur, who had stopped at the middle of the passage.

There was that tell-tale sound of clinking beads like rainfall, then Emrys emerged from the door of the council hall. He walked with brisk steps, instead of his usual leisurely amble that allowed people of all stations to approach him. It was as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the Pendragon palace.

It could have been Arthur’s imagination, but he thought he saw a hitch in Emrys’ step when he saw Arthur. Nonetheless, Emrys didn’t slow his pace. His gaze slid off Arthur like water off a duck’s back, and he breezed past without so much as an acknowledgement of Arthur’s presence. His attendants were left to rush after him. Arthur was so heartbroken he didn’t notice the piercing glance Morgana sent him as she passed by.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur’s utter reluctance to wed is more than made up for by everyone around him. The prospect of a royal wedding buoys everyone’s spirits, and people keep stopping him to give advice, or slapping his shoulder and wishing him well.

His mother gushes about flower arrangements and gown fabrics during their afternoon teas. Knight Victor pulls Arthur aside one day for a long talk while the rest of the knights work their way through a series of strenuous sword drills. He cautions Arthur, tone serious, against choosing someone for their looks. Character and upbringing was always more important. Even if the marriage was one of duty rather than love, he made Arthur promise to never be unkind to his bride. For someone who had never married, Knight Victor was unexpectedly wise regarding matters of the heart. Arthur almost wanted to ask Knight Victor’s advice about his current predicament, but decided against it. He would wait to see if his letter had reached Emrys and been read.

Even on dawn patrols guarding Camelot’s borders, Arthur’s fellow soldiers would tease him good-naturedly and toss around bets about Arthur’s future bride. Four silvers went to Alexander if she had golden hair. If it was Princess Vivian, a pretty sum of ten gold would find its home in Terrence’s pockets.

It was unbearable. Surely the only chance Arthur had was for Emrys, the one who had come up with this whole farce of an engagement in the first place, to call it off. He hoped with all his heart that against the odds, Morgana had managed to pass his letter to Emrys, and convince him to read it.

That hope carried Arthur for three days. In that time, he met with the first batch of candidates, who were mostly relatives of council members. They lived in Camelot itself, and were more than eager to have a chance to visit the palace and spend time with the prince. More distinguished ladies from faraway lands would be invited by messengers. If they agreed, they would have to undertake the journey of a few days’ time to reach Camelot.

But in the meantime, there was Elizabeth, and Andrea, and Tatiana, all of whom arrived in the palace bearing gifts to curry favour. Arthur spent his days entertaining ladies and his nights worrying if his efforts to reach Emrys were going to pay off.

Finally, one morning after a night of restless sleep, Arthur woke and spotted a small folded piece of parchment just inside his door, as if someone had slipped by his room in the night and slid the letter under the door. His heart skipped with excitement and nervousness.

His hand stopped just short of touching the parchment, and Arthur closed his eyes. _Please let it be Emrys, please let him understand_ , Arthur pleaded in his mind, before unfolding the parchment.

It was an unfamiliar hand, with a feminine and regal touch that brought to mind Morgana immediately.

_I tried, but he won’t listen. He threw your letter in the fire. He’s an idiot, but don’t tell him I said that. I’m sorry I can’t do more._

Arthur’s heart fell from uncertain optimism into despair. Even Morgana had failed.

He sank to the floor, floor cold against his knees, and felt the first few tears leak out of the corners of his eyes. Arthur’s hand clenched almost unconsciously, and he heard the crinkle of parchment as he pounded his chest with a fist. His other hand covered his eyes, so that all he saw was the velvety darkness behind his eyelids, instead of Morgana’s message. _I’m sorry I can’t do more._ Arthur, too, was at the end of his rope. He didn’t know what else he could do, by himself. It was the end. There was nothing else left to do, but accept his circumstances. Find a girl that everyone approved of, a bride who would make everyone but Arthur happy, and live alongside her for the rest of his life, with Emrys just within arms’ reach but never actually touchable.

Arthur let himself fall apart until his tears dried up and he felt like he wouldn’t crumble into the hole in his chest if he moved. Then he gathered the pieces of himself back together, and went to wash up.

He drifted through the day in a daze, following the shouted commands during training almost gratefully, glad that all he had to do was follow instructions. It left no space for him to think, to grieve, to focus on anything other than the trembling in his muscles and the sweat dripping down his neck. He almost wished practice would go on longer, but Knight Victor called off the day’s practice, and Arthur went to his rooms to change.

As was his usual practice, Arthur left his rooms, and made his way to his mother’s solar for their standing afternoon tea. Recently, his mother had been using their time together to discuss the candidates. Arthur resigned himself to an hour of mustering up false enthusiasm about the subject. When he reached the solar, his mother’s face was unusually sombre. A prick of concern for his mother appeared in Arthur’s mind, but it was so small compared to the whole tangled bramble of emotions he had been trapped in since the morning that he just brushed it away.

His mother smiled with none of her usual verve as Arthur sat down. “My darling, I think it’s time we had a talk.”

Arthur blinked. He had been ready for his mother to launch right into the relative merits of various candidates. Her sudden request for a talk caught him off-guard.

“Of course, mother. Whatever you want.”

“Arthur, I feel I may have neglected your emotions in all this commotion about an engagement. And I’ve noticed that you’re not your usual self.” His mother’s hand came up to cup Arthur’s cheek. Her palm was hot where she had warmed her hands against her teacup. Arthur’s heart was still tender from the morning, and he felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. “If all this has truly made you unhappy, tell me. Emrys is being unusually adamant regarding your engagement, but I am your mother. If you do not want this, I will not allow it to continue. I want you to be happy, darling.”

Arthur closed his eyes, and let one hand come up to cradle his mother’s, where it was pressed against his cheek. “Mother…” He pressed his face closer into her gentle touch.

He yearned to spill out his heart to her, tell her all the feelings and thoughts that had tangled his mind for so long. She would sigh quietly and smooth a hand over his hair, and help him comb out his thoughts into manageable portions, soothing over the hurts and kissing away the pain, just the way she did when Arthur was still a child.

But Arthur was not a child anymore. He could no more allow his mother to solve all his problems than he could let her be king of Camelot in his stead. It was time Arthur resolved his own difficulties, knotty and painful as they were. But there was no reason why he couldn’t borrow her power…

“I appreciate your concern, mother. But I won’t need you to call off the engagement.” His mother’s brow furrowed, and she seemed ready to insist that Arthur think further on the matter, until she heard what Arthur said next. “If you get me a meeting with Emrys, I’ll get him to call off the engagement myself.”

It was a brilliant plan, and one that had practically fallen into Arthur’s lap. Emrys couldn’t refuse an invitation from the queen, he would have to come. It was somewhat duplicitous, tricking Emrys into coming to see Arthur under false pretences, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Arthur was certain, as long as he managed to get Emrys into the same room to talk to him, they could resolve whatever misunderstanding there was between them.

But Arthur was getting ahead of himself. First came making sure that Emrys didn’t know the invitation was actually from Arthur. He asked his mother to request Emrys’ presence in her solar that evening. There was only one passage leading to the royal family’s quarters for security reasons, and the solar was located further in than Arthur’s room. With any luck, he could successfully waylay Emrys on his way to the solar.

The timing would minimise the number of people around as well. Most of the servants would either be in the kitchen having their dinner in the evening, or serving dinner to various persons in the castle. With any luck, the only witnesses would be Emrys’ ever-present entourage.

The plan was far from perfect, but it was all Arthur had. After seeing his mother send a note off to Emrys requesting his presence, Arthur retired to his rooms to prepare for the encounter in the evening, however it might turn out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ygraine to the rescue! I’ve always felt that Arthur would have grown up quite differently if Ygraine were still alive, and I’ve tried to show that in my fic. Anyway, I promise this is the LAST chapter of angst, and next chapter we finally get to see why Merlin’s been acting the way he has. The next chapter will probably be the last too!


	11. Chapter 11

It was still the afternoon, and Arthur estimated that he had a good four hours before Emrys was due to arrive. He filled his time in his room, picking at the lunch the kitchens had sent up and pacing around anxiously. In a matter of hours, everything would be resolved. Arthur’s mind kept coming up with scenarios he might face, and discarding them just as quickly.

To distract himself, Arthur tried to tidy his room. The bed had already been made by his maid, but the pile of armour he had discarded at the foot of the bed after training was still there. With the thought that perhaps the repetitive task of cleaning his armour might clear his mind, Arthur headed to the closet next to the bed where he kept the materials needed. However, when he opened the closet, what caught his eye was something else entirely.

The stark whiteness of Emrys’ forgotten cloth from the picnic made it stand out in the dimness of the closet interior. His hands paused in the middle of reaching for the oil and rags he needed, and Arthur found his fingers skimming over the fine material. It sparked memories of that one magical day spent at Lake Aurelius. Not only the kiss that the cloth had facilitated, but also everything that came before: the ride he and Emrys had shared, and the things Emrys had confided in him. It reminded Arthur of the easy way Emrys had slipped into calling Arthur by his name, omitting his title entirely.

Arthur never did return that favour. Even though Emrys had given Arthur permission to call him by his name, Arthur felt strange enough doing so that he reverted back to Emrys soon enough. It felt disrespectful, as if Arthur was calling his father by name.

He tried saying out Emrys’ name now. _Merlin._ It was a pretty name, and Arthur pondered over it, and the one who held the name, as he paced his room. The cloth was tucked into one of Arthur’s pockets, and there it stayed until the setting sun painted Arthur’s room in shades of gold. Dinner was sent up from the kitchens, and Arthur summarily sent it back after stomaching what he could.

From his window, Arthur could look down at the courtyard at the front of the Pendragon castle. When the carriage that Arthur recognized as Emrys’ pulled up to the steps, and numerous white figures stepped out, Arthur stepped away from the window and positioned himself in the corridor outside his room.

It only took a few minutes before that familiar figure garbed in white came striding down the hall. As usual, his attendants trailed behind him, moving as fast as he was. Arthur moved into the middle of the hallway, so that Emrys couldn’t easily move past without brushing past him. Emrys’ stride slowed, as he realised who the obstruction in the path was.

“Hello, Emrys. My mother won’t be able to join you today. Could we have a word?” Arthur said. His tone brook no excuses.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Emrys’ eyes met Arthur’s. He seemed to understand that Queen Ygraine’s involvement was nothing more than a ruse, and that Arthur was serious this time. Emrys’ hands clenched and loosened at his side. His lips thinned, and he took a deep breath, almost as if to brace himself.

“Very well.” Emrys moved towards Arthur’s room. “All of you, wait for me at the foot of the stairs.” He tipped his head towards his attendants, before entering the room.

Arthur watched Emrys’ entourage turn right around and retreat back down the hallway. Morgana, who had been at the front of the pack, was now at the tail of it, and she turned around to raise her eyebrows at Arthur. It was a questioning look, and Arthur responded with a resolute nod, before stepping into his room.

Emrys had positioned himself at the window, and was looking out at the city below as candlelight flickered on, house by house. The corners of Arthur’s room were shrouded in shadows, and the window let in tawny dusk light which left a bright spot in the middle of the room. Emrys’ white robes were almost golden in the honey-coloured light, and Arthur’s heart ached with his beauty.

Picking up some flint, Arthur moved around the room to light some candles. Even though he could have accomplished the task with a snap of his fingers, Emrys stayed where he was at the window. His head was positioned so that he could see both the view outside, as well as Arthur’s actions inside the room. His gloved hands were clenched into fists at the small of his back, one hand encircling the wrist of the other.

When Arthur was done lighting up the room, he leaned against the other side of the window frame where the light didn't touch, opposite Emrys. “How have you been?” It was no time for pleasantries, and yet Arthur did want to know what Emrys had been going through.

Emrys’ eyes stayed trained outside, somewhere in the dusky sky. “Busy.” A pause, then he continued. “With your engagement, as you might expect. I hear you’ve met some of the candidates already. Any of them catch your fancy?”

Emrys’ flippancy annoyed Arthur, and he brushed aside the question. “So busy you couldn’t find the time to read my letter?”

“That was an accident. A stray gust of wind blew it out of my hand into the fireplace. These things happen.” As he shrugged, a strong breeze swept into the room, making all the candles gutter and threaten to extinguish. It died down in time for Emrys to finish his words. “I’m sure whatever you had to say in there wasn’t important, anyway.”

How could Arthur make Emrys take him seriously? How could he break past this nonchalant front that Emrys presented, to the real Emrys who had kissed him in the forest? Then Arthur remembered what Emrys had said there. _Only the old Emrys and my parents know it, so this has to be our little secret, alright?_   The previous Emrys had died years ago, and Emrys’ parents lived at the border of Camelot, far from him. With a pang of sadness, Arthur realised that no one had called Emrys by his real name for years, at the very least. Arthur hadn’t realised what a valuable gift he’d been given that day. When Arthur continued to call him Emrys, Emrys – no, _Merlin_ – must have hid his disappointment.

Another scene rose to the front of Arthur’s memory, almost unbidden. It was a memory of his parents at a ball held during midsummer solstice a few years ago. His father made his rounds of the room, smiling cordially at guests as they called him _sire_ and _my king_. When he reached his mother, however, she whispered something into his ear that ended with _Uther_. His father had smiled then, nothing like the polite one he had presented to their guest, but a bright, genuine one that made the edges of his eyes crinkle.

Perhaps Arthur had been entreating the wrong person’s attention this entire time.

Arthur took a deep breath and said, “Merlin, why are you avoiding me?”

That was enough to shake Merlin out of his indifferent guise. His body snapped to face Arthur, his eyes widening. “You remembered.” Then just as quickly, Merlin’s face fell again. “Because nothing can ever happen between us,” he said softly.

“Why not?” Arthur asked.

“ _Why not?_ ” Merlin repeated forcefully, as he pushed himself away from the window sill to pace the room. “Because you are the prince of Camelot, and I am Emrys. Because this is nothing more than a childish crush, that will run its course as long as I avoid you for long enough, and you get married. It may be difficult now, but in a few years’ time when you are king of Camelot with your queen by your side, you will thank me.” Merlin stopped at Arthur’s desk, hands gripped tight around the top of the chair.

“I don’t think I will.” Arthur stalked towards the desk, anchoring himself on the side opposite from Merlin. “This is not a crush or a passing phase, I know it in my heart. I’ve loved you since forever, and I think you love me too. Why can’t two people who love each other be together?” He fixed Merlin with a beseeching gaze.

“Arthur, you and I are not normal people.” Merlin’s face softened. “We have responsibilities we owe to others beyond ourselves. We fulfil our roles so that the people of Camelot can lead their lives happily. You will be a king who makes good decisions, the latest in a long line of Pendragon kings, and you will continue your family line. And the job of Emrys is to advise the king, not lead him down the wrong path!”

“What of our happiness? Don’t we deserve to be happy as well? Are we supposed to sacrifice our happiness for everyone else?” Arthur’s hand darted out to cover Merlin’s on the back of the chair, but Merlin wrenched his hands away, and backed towards the door.

“How could you ever be happy with me? If I weren’t wearing gloves you wouldn’t even dare to touch me. If I’m careless for even one moment, I could kill you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did that. This, us together, is a bad idea no matter how you look at it.” Merlin shook his head.

“We’ll find a way around that somehow. This doesn’t have to be a doomed endeavour. Merlin, stop thinking about all the reasons why this can’t work. Just follow your heart, your feelings, the way you did when you kissed me.”

Merlin was standing in the middle of the room, his wavering plain on his face. He had already pulled out all his arguments, all the rationalisations he had used to justify the impossibility of their relationship. Even now, he was pulling at straws and coming up empty. It was clear to Arthur that Merlin loved him too. The only thing keeping him from Arthur was the stubborn way he clung to duty, self-sacrificial to the bitter end.

This was his opportunity. Arthur moved slowly towards Merlin, telegraphing his movements so that Merlin could avoid Arthur if he wished to. Merlin’s hands stayed at his sides, and he allowed for them to be captured by Arthur. The white gloves were soft and silky, but underneath Arthur could feel the warmth and firmness of Merlin’s hands. Flesh and bone, just like everybody else’s. Human.

“Just do one thing for me,” Arthur said, looking deep into Merlin’s conflicted eyes. “Stop thinking, for this one moment, and listen to your heart. Doesn’t this feel so right?” Arthur interlaced his fingers with Merlin’s slowly, and Merlin’s eyes darted down to where their hands were joined. There was a period of silence, where Arthur could feel his pulse beating fast and strong in the hollow of his neck.

Arthur knew it was over when he felt Merlin’s hands squeeze back. Merlin’s eyes slipped shut in surrender. His voice was strangled and choked with emotion as he replied. “Yes. It feels exactly like the way it did when I first used magic. Like coming home when you didn’t know you left in the first place.”

His confession sounded like it was torn out of him, like an utter relief. Merlin’s body sagged, but he didn’t lean against Arthur. Arthur knew the only reason he didn’t was because of what Merlin had yelled across the room earlier. _If I’m careless for even one moment, I could kill you._ They would find a way around that. Together.

A grin so wide it almost split his cheeks took its place on Arthur’s face. “Now would be a really good time to have one of those handkerchiefs handy.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head in confusion. Then he realised what Arthur was implying, and blushed. It was a surprisingly good look on someone who was usually so composed. “Um. I don’t have one of those right now. I could call someone to bring one up?” His voice trailed off questioningly, and Merlin took a step away from Arthur towards the door, as if to do so.

Arthur tightened his hold on Merlin’s hands to halt his movement, careful not to tug so hard that he would stumble.

“There’s no need to,” Arthur said, and he pulled out the cloth he had tucked away into his pocket earlier, clutching it loosely in his fist. “Because I have one.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s well-prepared.”

Something in Arthur’s chest that had been weighing him down disappeared, as he saw the way Merlin slipped back into an easy humour which Arthur had glimpsed all-too-briefly before. Merlin stepped back close to Arthur, and his fingers found the loose end of the cloth where it dangled from Arthur’s fist. Slow and deliberate, Merlin pulled the cloth out of Arthur’s grasp. All the while, he stared at Arthur with a wicked grin and sparkling eyes.

The sensation of the cloth slipping out of Arthur’s grasp inch by inch, almost like a lover’s lingering caress,  sent goose bumps shivering up the back of his neck. Once Merlin had the cloth, he let go of Arthur’s other hand and snapped the fabric out with a brisk flick of his wrists.

Merlin started to step towards Arthur and corral him towards his bed, a mischievous smile on his face. Arthur could feel a grin growing on his face as well, as he navigated the room backwards. He stopped when he felt the post of his bed against his back, leaning against it. He even twined his hands around it, to better resist the urge to reach out and touch Merlin.

He was terribly close now, and Arthur could see the cornflower blue of Merlin’s eyes, and the curve of lips just inches away. When Merlin whispered to him, Arthur could feel the puff of his breath against his skin, a soft, shivery sensation.

“Arthur, don’t move a muscle.” Merlin draped the cloth over Arthur’s head, the same way he had in the forest. Only this time, Arthur had his eyes open. He could see as the cloth obscured his vision, turning the sharp lines of Merlin’s face into vague suggestions. The weave of the fabric laid a soft pattern of white cross-hatching over everything, and his breath was hot against his mouth where it caught in the cloth.

Then Merlin leaned in, and kissed Arthur sweetly.

Their second kiss was different. This time, they touched lips with the knowledge that their feelings were returned. There was no panicked fleeing or pursuit after this kiss, and Arthur and Merlin lingered in each other. Neither of them had much experience, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were here together in a quiet room, where they could be true to themselves, away from the crowd that saw their titles, but not them.

It wasn’t until the sun silently set and they were left in flickering candlelight that they broke apart. As Merlin carefully leant his forehead against Arthur’s, he sighed softly, then smiled. In that moment, Arthur was sure they were thinking of the same thing.

There would be troubles ahead of them in the future, of that there was no doubt. But through it all, Arthur and Merlin would be side by side supporting each other. For now though, they would let the future worry for itself. It would be enough to savour each other’s company in this very moment.

Arthur smiled, and tipped his chin up to meet Merlin’s lips again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the end! Thank you all for reading, from those who were with me from the start, to those who came in halfway, or are even reading this only when it’s completed. This is my first long multi-chapter story, and while in hindsight I would have done many things differently, no regrets! Thank you to everyone who kudos-ed, and commented, and bookmarked! 
> 
> <3 Much love, the author.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Terrified by Katherine McPhee and Zachary Levi.
> 
> Sort of inspired by this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kumari_(children)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Critique is always welcome.


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